


Let's Fall In Love In A Full Size Bed

by fiddleyoumust



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 03:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2907845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleyoumust/pseuds/fiddleyoumust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick needs a date to his cousin's wedding. Harry is Nick's obvious choice even if he's not the wisest.</p>
<p>This fic is very loosely based on the movie The Wedding Date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Fall In Love In A Full Size Bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrsyt31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsyt31/gifts).



> This is for Erin who wanted Gryles and said she could dig on some pretend boyfriends as a trope. I hope you like this. Merry Christmas!
> 
> Thanks to Liz and Miranda for reading this for me. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

“So, he comes around the corner buck naked and freezes right there in the middle of the living room with my mom and dad just sort of taking it all in,” Aimee says, standing up and waving her hands in front of her crotch for effect.

Ian turns the loveliest shade of red Nick’s ever seen and Nick can’t wait to bring this up on radio come Monday morning. He’s already trying to work it into a Polly Pocket joke. _Wanna see what’s new_ takes on a completely different meaning when thinking about one’s in laws seeing one’s prick. 

Nick’s phone buzzes, rudely interrupting his train of thought. He glances down to find a text from his sister asking him to call her immediately. It’s not like Jane to be overly dramatic, and Nick’s father has been poorly the last few months, in and out of hospy for dizzy spells the doctors can’t quite figure out.

He excuses himself from the table and steps outside onto the street waiting for the door to close and block out the noise from the pub. 

“Hiya, Janie,” Nick says when Jane picks up. “You all right?”

“It’s your mother, Nicholas,” Eileen says. 

Nick’s stomach sinks, a million terrible images running through his mind -- his dad or Liv seriously hurt. Some horrible accident that’s taken out half his family at once. 

“Mum, is everyone okay? Dad isn’t--”

“Everyone’s fine,” she says. “I’ve rung you three times this week and you haven’t rung me back.”

Nick’s been avoiding her, it’s true. But only because she’s been trying to nail him down about his cousin’s wedding and he hasn’t figured out how to weasle out of it yet. He can’t believe Jane has done this to him. 

“Tell Jane she’s broken the sibling code. There’s no going back from this,” Nick says. “We’ll never be the same.”

“Stop being dramatic, Nicholas. She doesn’t even know I’ve done it. She forgot her phone when she took Liv dress shopping today.”

The thought of Eileen resorting to nefarious tactics in order to get Nick to ring her back, taking Jane’s phone and painstakingly tapping out a text, goes a long way to making Nick feel better about the whole thing. Sometimes he wonders how his parents ended up with him for a son and then one of them will surprise him, do something so amazing that he has no doubt he came from them.

“I’m strangely proud, mum. That’s right devious of you.”

“Oh hush,” Eileen says. “Now about Kate’s wedding.”

“I’ve got a gig,” Nick says.

He doesn’t, but he could do. It wouldn’t be difficult to find one and he’d rather be working than spend an excruciating weekend surrounded by his extended family.

That alone is enough to make him steer clear. The fact James will be there with some young thing on his arm -- probably a student because James is the type to do something that cliche -- is just a twist to the knife really. 

“You don’t,” his mum says. “But even if you do you can cancel it. I don’t ask much of you. But we’re family and family doesn’t have to like each other but they do have to come together now and then.”

Nick’s heard it all before. His mother has very strict ideas about family celebrating and mourning together. “Births, deaths and weddings,” she always says -- a Grimshaw family tradition. 

“Fine,” Nick says. “I’ll drop the bloody card in the post tomorrow.”

“Good lad,” says his mum. “And don’t forget to say if you’re bringing someone.”

Nick is definitely bringing someone.

“Bye, mum! Great chat. See you soon!” Nick says. 

He waits for his mum to sigh heavily and say her own goodbyes before thumbing his phone closed. 

“Well fuck,” he says.

~~~~  
The problem with his cousin’s wedding is that James will be there.

“I don’t know what to do,” Nick whines to Gelz and Alexa over their second bottle of wine. “My mum’s guilted me into going to this wretched wedding and now there’s no way out.”

Usually he would just drag one of them with him. They’d get drunk and laugh at everyone’s terrible fashion choices, but he’s certain James will have someone. He knows from friends that James is a professor in Manchester now and that he has a reputation for dating former students.

There’s no way he’s showing up with one of his straight girlfriends on his arm. He wants to waltz in looking rich, successful and well fucked. Maybe five years ago he could have done, too, found some pretty model on the dance floor at Mahiki and convinced him to spend a weekend in Oldham in exchange for a favor. 

Nick still has the connections to do it, but he hasn’t had the energy for clubs or strung out models in years. The curse of age and an early morning five days a week. 

If he’s going to make James green with envy -- and he definitely plans to try -- he’s going to have to come up with another plan, like find someone willing to let James think they’re in a relationship -- preferably someone ridiculously good-looking to boot.

“Ask Harry,” Alexa says.

“No,” Nick says.

He and Harry have finally reached a perfect Nirvana of friendship where they manage to pretend that they’re both okay with how things ended between them. Who knows, maybe Harry actually is okay. Either way there is not a chance in hell that Nick’s going to jeopardize the precarious balancing act they’ve perfected over the last several years.

“Hear me out,” Alexa says.

Nick ignores her and says, “I should have made more of an effort with that American bloke I met a few weeks back. Why didn’t he stick around?”

“Probably because you can’t even remember his name and he’s from America. Puts a damper on dating with an ocean between you,” Gelz answers. 

 

“Nick knows all about oceans between,” Alexa says, sipping on her dink with a smug look on her face.

“Oh shut up,” Nick tells her. “Harry’s not an option.”

“Harry’s always an option,” Alexa says. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you knew I was talking about him.”

Nick looks over to Gelz for help but the traitor just shrugs her shoulders and pretends to find her cuticles fascinating.

“I’m not trying to make you mad,” Alexa says softly. “It’s just I know he’ll say yes and he’ll make James mad with jealousy and you’d have fun with him. It’s perfect.”

“We’re good being friends,” Nick says. “I’m not sure asking him to pretend to be in love with me for a weekend is a good idea, especially with you lot always insinuating we’re more than we are.”

“I’m confused,” Glez butts in. “Isn’t the whole point to ask a friend? Someone who wouldn’t mind pretending exactly that?” 

“Maybe I’ll ask Michael,” Nick suggests. 

Gillian raises an eyebrow to communicate her displeasure at being ignored.

“Good idea,” Alexa says. “Michael looks well hard so if James isn’t jealous he’ll at least be too scared to cross you.”

“Ugh,” Nick whines. “What am I going to do?”

“Ask Harry,” Gelz says and laughs when Nick throws his hands in the air and storms out of the room.

~~~~

Nick’s not even finished properly explaining the situation when Harry interrupts.

“When is it? I have… I’m going to be a bit busy the first part of June is all.”

“First weekend in March,” Nick says. 

He can’t believe he’s actually doing this. He can’t believe Harry’s apparently going to say yes. 

“Okay,” Harry says. “I need to check my thing.”

“It’s called a calendar, Harry,” Nick says fondly.

“No, my like. The thing on my phone where I keep appointments.”

Nick rolls his eyes and says, “Still a calendar, Harry. Just because it’s not hanging on your wall with a different picture of a Corgi wearing a hat to mark each month doesn’t mean it’s not a calendar.”

“Gemma gave me that calendar. Stop judging me.”

“You’re an idiot,” Nick says. “Maybe I shouldn’t bring you to this thing. I want to elicit jealousy not pity.”

“Hey,” Harry whines. 

“Soz,” Nick says flippantly. “Truth hurts.”

“Yeah yeah. Why’s your ex going to be at your cousin’s wedding, anyway?” Harry asks. “I don’t think it’s very nice of her to invite some knob who messed you about.”

Nick loves it when Harry gets stroppy. He wishes they were sat in the same room so he could see Harry’s pinched face. It reminds him of a kitten hissing, something he told Harry once when they were very drunk, which hilariously only made him angrier and more kitten-like.

“Calm down, kitten,” Nick says taking the piss. “James is mates with my cousin’s fiance. He and I actually introduced them at uni.”

“Why’d it take them so long to get married?” Harry asks. “You went to uni ages ago.”

“Oooh, kitten has claws.” Nick says, but he knows it’s just banter. He and Harry have always had good banter.

Harry huffs through the phone so dramatically that Nick can perfectly imagine the accompanying eye roll. 

“At least I’m still a kitten,” Harry says.

“Hey, me mum says thirty is the new twenty.” 

“Eileen’s a good mum,” Harry says solemnly. 

“Anyway,” Nick says loudly. He hopes Harry’s ear hurts for a full hour after they hang up. “Do you think you could do it? If you’ve got something going on I understand. It is sort of last minute.”

“It’s more than a month away,” Harry says.

“I mean for a wedding it’s -- I was supposed to RSVP ages ago.”

“Well go ahead then. I’m in.” 

Nick doesn’t know why he thought Harry might say no. Harry never says no.

“Thanks, Harold,” Nick says. 

“It’s okay,” Harry says. “That’s what friends are for.”

~~~~~

“I thought you didn’t do subterfuge,” Nick says by way of a greeting, kissing Harry quickly on the cheek before turning and giving the same treatment to Anne and Robin where they’re all stood in the doorway of Harry’s childhood home.

Nick’s seen a hundred interviews where Harry’s insisted he didn’t wear disguises or go out incognito but Nick knows that isn’t entirely true. Harry always has a few tricks up his sleeve when he’s trying to avoid unwanted attention.

“I… What?” Harry asks, giving Nick a perplexed look as he moves aside to let Nick in. 

“Flying to Manchester instead of Heathrow. Pretending to visit your mum and Robin.”

“Well, I am visiting them,” Harry points out as they all walk toward the sitting room together. 

Nick sticks his tongue out and turns his attention to Anne. “You look lovely. How are things in Holmes Chapel?”

“Holmes-y. Chapel-y,” she says. “I finally listened to your interview with Beyonce the other day. It was the highlight of my week.”

Nick loves a compliment but he’s always just a bit prouder when they come from Anne. Nick thinks it’s probably best not to dwell on the why of it and just accept her praise.

“Thank you. I was bricking it if I’m being honest. It was like being sat next to God.”

“But how was she really?” Robin asks, leaning forward like he’s waiting for Nick to impart some secret insider knowledge. “I mean I assume she’s lovely.”

“She’s incredible,” Nick says. “I mean she’s Beyonce. I mostly sat there trying not to sound like a blooming idiot.”

“Too late,” Harry says, smiling at Nick.

Nick squawks and gives Harry a dead arm.

“Well I think you were wonderful,” Anne says, in a bid to reinstate peace and keep Harry from throwing one of her sofa pillows at Nick’s head.

Harry makes gagging noises and says, “I was promised tea and biscuits. Stop fawning over Nick.”

“Oh hush,” Anne says but she gets up and goes toward the kitchen to fetch their tea, calling back for Robin to come help her.

“I guess I’m helping,” Robin says, getting up to follow in what is perhaps the least smooth getaway Nick has ever seen.

If Anne and Robin are trying to give them some private catch up time they needn’t have bothered. He and Harry are old pros at picking up where they left off. They’ve had to be, with how chaotic their lives have been over the course of their entire friendship.

Harry’s got his phone out anyway, clearly oblivious to his mother’s scheme. He’s scrolling through Twitter very intently so Nick takes the opportunity to get a proper look at him. 

His hair is tied back so Nick can’t tell how long it is now. The last time he saw Harry, a year ago on his birthday, Nick thinks, it was well past his shoulders. If he’s cut it since, Nick hasn’t heard about it, and he thinks he would have. Sugarscape, at the very least, would have run a week’s worth of stories mourning the loss. 

Nick thinks he looks good, relaxed and well-rested, which isn’t a look Nick’s used to seeing on him. They’ve both always been good at burning the candle at both ends. 

“You look well,” Nick says. “Retirement agreeing with you?”

Harry looks up, purses his lips, shrugs and goes back to his phone. 

Nick waits him out. Sometimes Harry needs a minute to get his thoughts together, to figure out how he wants to say things. Nick figures it’s a side-effect of good PR training. Harry Styles likes to contemplate. 

“I miss it sometimes,” he says wistfully, still looking down at his phone. “The other lads are settled and I thought I had like… a plan. But there are too many hours in the day, you know?”

Nick doesn’t know. He’s still busy. He’s got the Breakfast show for another year at least. He hasn’t decided if he’ll negotiate a new contract or if Big Boss Ben will even make him an offer when his current contract expires. He’s in talks to host a chat show on BBC Two in the fall and he just came off his 2nd successful year hosting The Brits.

“Not really,” Nick says. “I need a vacation. Maybe I’ll come to L.A. this summer and let you put me up in your fancy mansion.”

“If he’s still got the fancy mansion,” Anne says as she enters the living room with a plate of biscuits.

“Mum,” Harry says, his voice sharp.

“Harry,” Anne says, waiving Harry off before turning to Nick. “Harry’s moving back to London in June. It’s all settled.”

Nick looks between the two of them and waits for confirmation from Harry who just shrugs his shoulders like that’s some kind of answer Nick’s meant to understand.

“You’re… But you love L.A.,” Nick says.

There were so many times in their past that Nick wished Harry would come back to London on break but he’d chosen to spend his time off in L.A. instead. It had stung, but Nick tried to accept it because L.A. made Harry happy and at the end of the day that’s all Nick really wanted for him. 

“I do. I did,” Harry amends, twisting his hands nervously before reaching for a biscuit. “But Jeff got married last year and most of my other friends too. Gemma’s baby is due in July and I want to be here for that, and, like, everything that comes after. Be a proper uncle.”

“I thought you were working on another album?” Nick asks.

He doesn’t even know why he cares. So Harry’s coming back to London. It’s not like it matters. Half of Nick’s friends flit back and forth from America to London all the time.

It’s just -- Nick never thought Harry would come back, not really. He still can’t quite process it. Harry will probably change his mind in six months if he even makes the move at all. He’s always been fickle when he’s bored and it sounds like L.A.’s stopped entertaining him the way he wants it to.

“I am, but we have recording studios in London,” Harry says reasonably. “Just think. We’ll be neighbors again.”

He looks at Nick and smiles, but there’s something off about it. It’s the kind of smile he used to give fans when they’re being too persistent and Harry was too nice to tell them to fuck off. 

“Won’t that be lovely,” Anne says. “The two of you back together like the good old days.”

Nick suddenly feels stroppy like a child throwing a tantrum in a Tesco. He’s not sure he wants the two of them back together like the good old days. Parts of the good old days weren’t that great, at least not for Nick. Being Harry Styles’ gay best friend wasn’t the greatest role of his life.

But, apparently he doesn’t get a say. Apparently, he wasn’t even worth telling in the first place. He wonders if Harry ever would have told him if Anne hadn’t brought it up.

“I guess so,” Nick says, his voice sounding overly bright to his own ears. “If I’d known I wouldn’t have bothered you with this wedding business. I know how hectic moving can be.”

“I’m happy to do it,” Harry says seriously, staring at Nick all intense-like, the way he does when he’s being too earnest and heartfelt or when he knows he’s made someone mad at him and he’s trying to weasel out of it. 

Nick looks away. He never could take Harry when he was being like that. He’s better at banter and self-deprecating jokes and when those tried and true methods fail him, he usually turns to alcohol. 

There will be alcohol at his parents’ house.

“We should probably get going,” Nick says. “I told my mum we’d be there in time for dinner.”

“Oh, it is getting late. Let me pack you some biscuits for the drive,” Anne says, standing and ignoring both Nick and Harry’s protests.

“I always gain half a stone every time I visit,” Harry tells him. “I don’t know why she thinks we’re going to starve during the hour it takes to get to yours.”

“Mums,” Nick says. “They’re either feeding you or nagging you. Sometimes both at once.”

“Speaking of which, I better get my bags before she asks me about them.”

Harry makes for the front door where his suitcase, a hanging bag and a small shoulder bag are sat on the floor. Nick gets up and follows him out, grabbing the handle of the suitcase before Harry manages it.

“Thanks.”

“I can’t believe you’re really moving back,” Nick says, avoiding Harry’s eyes by digging in his pocket for his car remote.

“I was planning to tell you this weekend,” Harry says. “I wasn’t keeping it from you, I swear. I just--”

“It’s fine,” Nick says, trying to get by Harry and head out to the car.

Harry stops him with a hand to his arm and forces Nick to look at him.

“I was going to tell you,” he says seriously. “I promise.”

Nick’s always been rubbish at staying mad. He’s not even sure he _is_ mad, but it doesn’t really matter in the face of Harry’s pleading puppy-dog eyes.

“It’s fine, Haz. I know you would have.”

Harry lets him go and they head out to the car together getting everything in the boot squared away just as Anne and Robin come out of the house with their biscuits. She hands the tin and a Diet Coke to Nick, bless her, and gives Harry a bottled water for the road. 

“It was good seeing you, love. I expect to see more of you now Harry’s coming home,” Anne tells him, kissing both his cheeks.

“Yes, Anne,” Nick says dutifully which earns him an eyeroll from Harry.

“Stop sucking up,” he says, coming round the car to hug both Anne and Robin goodbye. “Love you. I’ll stop back on Sunday before I fly out.”

Nick gets in the car while they finish their goodbyes but rolls the window down when Harry slides into the passenger seat.

“Have fun!” Anne tells them, then to Nick, “Don’t let Harry drink too much. You know how he gets.”

“Hey,” Harry says, but he doesn’t argue the point. He is an embarrassing drunk but so is Nick. When the two of them get going it can be quite the show.

“Cheers,” Nick says, trying not to laugh as he slides his sunglasses on and starts the car. “I’ll do my best.”

“Bye!” Harry yells.

Nick takes the hint.

“And we’re off,” he says, sliding the car into gear and backing down the drive.

~~~

They make it five minutes down the road before Harry says, “Tell me about James. I’ve known you forever and you’ve never mentioned him before.”

“Nothing to it really. I fancied him in Uni. We dated. We broke up.”

“You’ve dated and broken up with loads of people and you’ve never cared enough about any of them to try and make them jealous,” Harry says.

“Well, he was the first,” Nick explains. ”I think I imagined we’d get married someday which seems ridiculous now. I don’t think I even liked him that much in hindsight but at the time I thought I was in love.”

“You never like anyone in hindsight,” Harry says matter of fact.

It’s the reputation Nick’s famous for amongst his friends.They all say the only thing Nick feels faster than infatuation is annoyance, that once the heady glow of newness wears off he doesn’t want them anymore, but hearing it from Harry makes Nick want to argue about it.

He wants to tell Harry it’s not true. It’s not that he doesn’t do commitment. He’s had friendships longer and stronger than some people’s marriages. He’s just never found anyone he wanted enough who wanted him back. 

“Well, like I said. He was the first. I guess that makes him special,” Nick says, his tone clipped and final in the hopes Harry will drop the subject.

Harry’s quiet after that, his head tipped against the glass as he watches the other cars on the road. Nick lets him zone out, perfectly content to let the subject die. Talking about James makes him feel exposed and insecure, two things he’s made it his life’s work to avoid.

“Sorry if I fall asleep,” Harry says finally.

“It’s okay,” Nick says. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”

~~~

Nick’s mum steals Harry to introduce him around to Nick’s various extended family members as soon as they walk through the door. That leaves Nick to deal with the luggage.

“She put you both in your old room,” Jane informs him with an arched brow. “She does know you’re not _actually_ dating, right?”

There’s a limited amount of space between the hotel where the wedding is being held, his parents’ house, and Jane’s house where they’re also putting people up. 

“She knows,” Nick says. “I told her we could stay at the hotel and free up a room here for someone else, but she wouldn’t let me.”

“Aw, she misses you,” Jane says. “You should visit more.”

“I think she missed Harry,” Nick says, tipping his head in the direction of his mother where she’s introducing Harry to one of Nick’s uncles.

“You think she’s introducing him as your boyfriend?” Jane asks. “I bet she is. She’s really into this undercover thing.”

Nick huffs and starts up the stairs loaded down with too many bags. Jane follows carrying Harry’s small shoulder bag and a smug expression that Nick only understands once he’s walked into his room.

The bed is much smaller than Nick remembers it being. 

“Oh, God,” he says. “Didn’t there used to be a queen in here?”

“You have no idea how hard I’m biting my tongue,” Jane says. 

“Oh shut up,” Nick says. “This is serious!”

Jane pats his shoulder soothingly before she drops Harry’s bag on the bed and says, “And I wish you the best of luck. I’m going back downstairs before all the sausages get eaten.”

“I hate you,” Nick says.

~~~

Harry doesn’t get a look at the room until they’ve gone upstairs to bed.

“Did this bed get smaller?” 

Nick changes out of his trousers and into a pair of joggers, pulling them over his hips as he says, “Yes, apparently they’ve given Aunt Myrtle the bigger one.”

“Oh, I like your Aunt Myrtle,“ Harry says excitedly. “Did you know she’s been married seven times? That’s sick.”

“Yes, she’s the Elizabeth Taylor of Oldham,” Nick says. “I still don’t know why she needs a queen bed when she’s not brought a single one of her seven husbands.”

Harry climbs into bed in nothing but his pants and says, “We’ll make do,” as he pats the very small space beside him.

They’ve slept together a thousand times in both senses of the word, but things are very different now. There is no way Nick is sleeping with him like that. Not only is Harry ridiculously hot but he’s also ridiculously hot. Nick will die of arousal or night sweats before morning.

“Absolutely not,” Nick says. “Put a shirt on. I need layers between me and your volcanic internal temperature.”

“The neck gets all stretched and chokes me,” Harry pouts. “I promise I won’t take advantage of you.”

The joke falls flat. Nick tries to hold in hysterical laughter. Why did he ever think this was a good idea?

“Bad joke,” Harry says, raising his hands to his head like he’s surrendering to Nick. “Bad joke. I’m sorry. Don’t be weird.”

Nick doesn’t want things to be weird. He can do this. 

“I’m not being weird!” Nick insists, digging in his bag for a t-shirt which he throws at Harry’s head. “You’re weird.”

“Thanks,” Harry says, thumbing the worn cotton of the t-shirt. “It’s soft.”

“Mmm, and the necks been stretched and worn so maybe it won’t choke you.”

Harry slides the shirt over his head and pulls the hair band out of his hair. Nick was right, it’s still past his shoulders, a little dodgy looking from being pulled back all day, but still pretty. Nick feels a small flutter of panic just from looking at him all tousled in Nick’s t-shirt -- in Nick’s bed.

“Thanks,” Harry says again and this time when he pats the space next to him Nick climbs in.

There’s no way of not touching. The bed is too narrow for two full grown men to sleep side by side and not touch, but Nick is very aware of Harry holding himself as far away from him as he can. Nick feels bad, but not bad enough to say anything. He turns on his side, putting his back to Harry, and tries to fall asleep.

~~~

Nick wakes up sweaty with a twinge in his neck and Harry plastered to his back. He panics for a minute trying to figure out how to extricate himself before he remembers Harry sleeps like the dead. It turns out to be as easy as prying Harry’s arms loose and rolling forward off the bed. 

The landing is a bit precarious and Nick’s knees feel creaky and old when he stands up, but Harry doesn’t wake. He snuffles once and then burrows into the covers and settles back to sleep. God help him, Nick thinks it’s adorable.

He needs coffee. And a shred of dignity. He’s pretty sure he can find at least one downstairs.

Nick greets his mum with a kiss and says, “Don’t suppose there’s coffee?” 

“There’s tea,” his mum answers.

There’s always tea. Nick’s never cared for it but his mum refuses to believe she could raise a son so wrong about something that’s part of his British heritage.

“Coffee,” Nick says.

“I know you say you’ve always been this way but I still blame Aimee. It’s her American influence that’s done this to you,” she says, sipping her tea like a proper British lady.

“The last time she came for a visit you said she was like Madonna during the Guy Ritchie years,” Nick says. “If someone is being influenced it’s definitely not me.”

“Hmm. Well go on then,” Eileen says. “Make your coffee.”

Nick always forgets his parents don’t even keep a cafetiere so he’s forced to use instant. He misses his fancy espresso machine fiercely and decides to take his mood out on his mother by trying to steal her paper.

She slaps his hand without looking up and pretends like Nick’s not even sitting there.

“Mum,” Nick says. “Mum. Mum. Mum.”

She looks up from her reading and sighs. “You’re not going to stop are you?”

“No.”

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed did you? Bad night’s sleep?” Eileen asks.

Nick narrows his eyes and says, “I know what you’re doing,” as he tries to swipe the paper again.

“And I know what you’re doing. I birthed you. Raised you. I know you like the back of my hand.”

Nick doesn’t think they’re talking about Nick’s penchant for stealing his mum’s paper before she’s through reading it but he’s lost the plot somewhere along the way.

“I’m not doing anything,” Nick says.

“Nicholas I --”

“What’s Nick not doing?” his dad asks, shuffling into the kitchen just in time to save Nick from whatever serious conversation his mum was going to attempt before Nick’s even had his coffee.

“Nothing,” Nick says. “Mum’s judging my coffee habit.”

“As well she should,” Pete says. “Where’s Harry? I hardly got to speak to him yesterday.”

“Still sleeping, dad. It’s only half seven and he’s a pop star.”

“Well I hope he doesn’t think your mum’s holding breakfast for him. We’re eating in a half hour.”

Nick would bet half his fortune that Harry won’t see daylight until ten at the earliest. He’s never been a morning person.

“Jane mentioned brunch last night. We’re supposed to do that at eleven, I think.”

“Suit yourself,” Pete says. “More eggy bread for me.”

~~~~

Nick’s looking forward to a mimosa and a proper fry-up until he realises his sister’s failed to mention the brunch was being attended by the entire wedding party.

By the time he realises, it’s too late. One moment he’s kissing his cousin on the cheek and asking how she’s been and the next he turns to see Jane introducing Harry to James.

“This is Harry,” she says. “Grimmy’s boyfriend.”

It sounds so strange, so foreign. Even when they were shagging like crazy every chance they got they never referred to one another like that. They never were that -- too content to take things as they were -- static and temporary and in stops and starts. 

“Harry, this is James.”

Harry’s eyes widen a bit, clearly as blind-sided as Nick by James’ presence.

“Hello,” Harry says, recovering quickly and holding out his hand for James to take.

James looks fantastic. He’s got grey at his temples and lines around his eyes, but in a distinguished George Clooney sort of way that makes Nick certain he’ll age as well as Nick once thought he would. 

They’re the same age, but seeing James again makes Nick feel every one of his 35 years.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” James says as he takes Harry’s hand. 

The handshake is over and done in a matter of seconds, but Nick hates every single one of them. He wants James to stop touching Harry.

He’s slightly mollified by the fact that Harry doesn’t say it’s lovely to meet James, just perfunctorily shakes his hand and steps back, looking over his shoulder until he finds Nick looking at them.

James looks too, clearly following Harry’s lead, and Nick locks eyes with him for the first time in over ten years. It still hurts, which is ridiculous. Nick shouldn’t still care that this man didn’t want him. It was ages ago and if it was today Nick wouldn’t care. He’s different now -- still wants validation -- but doesn’t _need_ it like he once did. 

Somehow, seeing James makes him feel like that insecure twenty-something again. He knows James is a prick, but that doesn’t help, not really. He just wants to know why he wasn’t good enough -- not even for a knob like James.

He watches as Harry excuses himself and makes his way around the table where Nick’s standing, frozen, still looking at James.

“Hi,” Harry says once he’s reached him and then before Nick can process what’s happening Harry puts his hand on the back of Nick’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss.

Nick sinks into it. They haven’t kissed like this in years -- not since they’d agreed they had to stop or they’d end up hating each other -- but it still feels as natural as breathing.

Harry pulls back, keeping his face close as he says, “Is he still looking?”

Nick shakes his head, confused before he remembers James -- who is still looking -- only Nick doesn’t _care_. 

“Yeah,” Nick says, looking back at Harry.

“Good,” Harry says. “Let’s give him a show, shall we?”

Nick wants to tell Harry no. He doesn’t want James to see them. He doesn’t want anyone to see them, which is hysterical considering one of Nick’s issues from before was that Harry wasn’t ready to be seen.

“Nick?” Harry asks, his brow wrinkled wrinkled with concern.

This is what Nick asked him for. This is what Nick wanted and now he’s just going to have to live with his choices.

“Yeah,” Nick says again. “Let’s give him a show.”

~~~

By the time they leave the restaurant, Nick’s at the end of his rope. He thinks if Harry touches him one more time he might scream.

“Jane was saying Liv’s coming in today so I was--”

“I’m going to drop you at the house,” Nick says. “I need to go into town and buy a gift.”

“Oh,” says Harry. “I could go with you?”

Nick doesn’t want to be a prick. It’s not Harry’s fault, but he doesn’t think he can stand to be near him for one more minute.

“I think I need to go alone,” Nick says, keeping his eyes on the road, too afraid to look at Harry. “Just need a bit of a walk to clear my head.”

“Okay,” Harry says, and Nick can’t tell if he’s hurt or not from the tone of his voice.

Harry’s quiet for the rest of the ride home but when they pull up in front of the house Harry leans over and kisses Nick’s cheek.

“He never deserved you,” Harry says before he opens the door and strides up to the door.

~~~~

Nick’s already bought a present, purchased online and shipped straight to his cousin’s door, because Nick hadn’t intended on being here. Really, this is all his mum’s fault. He’s never letting her meddle in his affairs again. 

Instead he goes to a movie -- a comedy he’s not in the mood for -- and drinks his weight in Diet Coke. The movie is dumb, but Chris Smith plays the main character, so at least there’s something nice to look at while Nick sits in the dark and feels sorry for himself. 

He’s got three messages from Harry and one from his sister when he gets out so he hits “call” on Jane’s message and waits for her to pick up.

“Where are you?” 

“Hello to you too,” Nick says. 

“The rehearsal dinner starts in two hours. Harry’s worried. Mum’s worried.”

“I’ve only gone to town, Jane, not the moon. Calm down. I’ll be home in a half hour.”

“You weren’t answering your phone. Harry said you were upset and I know I sprung James on you this morning. I honestly didn’t know he was coming or I would have warned you,” Jane says.

Nick hears the anxiety in her voice and he knows he’s being a prick. Jane’s always had his back, defended him against anyone who dared to pick on him including their own parents. Of everyone in his family he trusts and loves her the most.

Nick sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s started raining while he was in the theater. He wishes he was home with Pig curled up in his bed. A good cry would not be out of order. 

“I had my phone off. “I’m sorry,” Nick says sincerely. He really didn’t mean for her to worry about him. “I’ll be home shortly.”

“Be careful. The roads are wet,” Janes says.

“Will do,” Nick says. “Bye. Bye. Bye.”

Jane says, “Bye,” and Nick thumbs his phone off, curses his lack of umbrella, and makes a run for his car.

~~~~

Nick hates his suit. He hates it and he forgot the scarf he’d meant to wear with it. He could have sworn he’d packed it but he’s torn his luggage apart and he can’t find it anywhere.

“I’ve got this one,” Harry says, handing him a lovely Saint Laurent scarf with navy blue accents. 

“I want the one I left in London,” Nick says stubbornly.

Harry stomps his foot and throws his scarf on the bed. As far as props for tantrums go, it’s a bit lackluster as it slithers off the bed onto the floor.

“You can’t have the one you left in London,” Harry snaps. “You can have that one or you can wear one of the other five you brought with you or you can keep being a twat and go without one entirely.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s not like a scarf is going to help any of this,” Nick says, gesturing to his general being. 

Harry stops mid shirt buttoning and levels Nick with a steely look.

“Close your eyes,” Harry says, striding forward until Nick takes a forced step back to keep them from colliding.

“What?” Nick asks, continuing to back up until he feels the wall at his back.

“Close. Your. Eyes,” Harry says, leaning in to nose along Nick’s jawline.

“Harry I--”

“I’m not going to kiss you, Nick,” Harry says.

Nick gives him a dubious look.

Harry says, “Please, trust me.”

Nick closes his eyes. He feels Harry’s breath against his neck, the faintest brush of Harry’s lips and the tip of his nose as they brush against the skin there. Nick’s entire body breaks out in gooseflesh.

“He’s going to be so sorry he messed things up with you,” Harry says. “He’s going to see you tonight and he’s going to realize what he lost - an incredible man who’s handsome, smart and sexy, and who looks fantastic in his suit with his borrowed scarf.”

Nick’s breath catches in his throat, his heart buzzing. His skin feels like it’s on fire.

“All you have to do is be you and he’ll be so sorry he ever let you go,” Harry says, his voice clear and strong in Nick’s ear.

Nick opens his eyes.

Harry looks as dazed as Nick feels. His face is still so close that it would hardly take any movement at all for Nick to kiss him.

“Holy shit,” Nick says. “Where did that--”

“We don’t want to be late,” Harry says and just like that, the warmth is gone from his eyes. He takes a step back and buttons the final button on his shirt before he grabs his jacket off the bed and heads for the bedroom door. 

Nick doesn’t think it’s fair that Harry seems completely unaffected by what just happened. Nick’s not sure he can walk, and Harry looks cool and collected with his chest tattoos on display and his hair pulled back in a loose bun. He’s a walking wet dream and Nick’s all turned around.

“Get your scarf, love,” Harry tells him gently. “We’ve got an ex to knock on his arse.”

Nick takes a few shaky steps toward the bed and picks Harry’s scarf up off the floor before following him downstairs.

~~~~

Nick can’t stop thinking about Harry. 

He watches him work the table at dinner -- charming grandmothers, middle-aged men and children alike -- while Nick drinks too much wine and tries to pretend like he’s not watching Harry.

Liv’s sat on his other side and she keeps smiling at him like she knows exactly what’s going on in his head. Which is ridiculous.

“Stop it,” Nick tells her.

“You’re so obvious,” Liv says.

Nick sticks his tongue out and turns to ask Harry to protect him but Harry’s not in his seat. Nick spies him on the other side of the table in Jane’s chair, deep in conversation with Aunt Myrtle. 

“Hiya,” Jane says, plopping down in Harry’s seat. “I’ve asked Harry to rescue me from Aunt Myrtle.”

“Thanks for that,” Nick says dryly. “I’m going to have to hear about at least five of her seven husbands tonight before he’ll let me sleep.”

“You love it,” Jane says.

Nick’s well on his way to drunk and too tired to figure out if Jane’s making a pointed dig or just talking.

“Now I’ve got Grimshaw women on both sides,” Nick says. “I’m going to need more wine.”

He gets up and goes in search of a waiter with a wine bottle. 

He finds James instead, running smack into him with his thankfully empty wine glass.

“Sorry,” Nick says sincerely. He doesn’t particularly want to talk to James, but he doesn’t want to assault him either.

“It’s okay. You look like a man on a mission,” James says, laying a steadying hand on Nick’s arm for balance.

James touching him again after all this time makes Nick feel a bit punch drunk, giddy and ridiculous, but not in the way Nick thought it would. He thought it would be thrilling, but really he just wants to get away and laugh hysterically at himself for all the years he’s spent obsessing over this moment.

“A mission for wine,” Nick says.

“A worthy mission,” James says. “Listen, I wanted to--”

“It’s okay, James. Water under the bridge,” Nick says, flapping his free hand at James.

Nick doesn’t care. He just… doesn’t care. He wants to find Harry and go home. He wants more wine.

“Nick,” James says. 

“Listen, I’ve got to go back to my table. It was nice seeing you,” Nick says, pushing past him.

His wine glass is still sadly empty.

Harry’s there when he gets back. Nick plops down next to him and says, “Thank god you’re here.”

“How drunk are you?” Harry asks. 

Nick’s definitely been drunker, but he’s still pretty buzzed. 

“You weren’t here to police me,” Nick says. 

“Hmm,” Harry says, dipping his finger into his uneaten dessert tart and holding it out toward Nick.

“Why are you --”

“We’re being watched,” Harry says.

Nick glances over Harry’s shoulder and sees James standing where he left him, watching them openly. Nick doesn’t care. He wouldn’t care if James was on fire and Nick had the only glass of water in the entire restaurant. Everything falls away until all Nick sees is the look on Harry’s face when Nick sucks Harry’s finger into his mouth.

Harry slides his finger over Nick’s bottom lip and Nick says, “I’m ready to go home.”

Harry closes his eyes and breathes in deep. Nick thinks he might say no -- wouldn’t blame him if he did -- but Harry stands up and grabs his coat off the back of his chair instead. 

Nick lets him drive.

~~~~

Harry unlocks the door to Nick’s parents’ house. Inside it’s dark and quiet and it reminds Nick of being young, of sneaking in after curfew and not getting caught. He feels like they’re getting away with something they shouldn’t be. 

Nick unwinds his borrowed scarf from his neck and tosses it on the coat hanger by the door before he pushes Harry against the wall and kisses him, his fingers pushing into Harry’s hair and pulling at his hair tie. 

“Ow,” Harry says, wincing and pushing Nick back to pull his hair loose himself.

“Sorry,” Nick says. “I like it long. You’d just started growing it when we…”

Harry shakes his head and stops Nick talking with another kiss, the two of them stumbling toward the stairs without letting go of each other. It makes the trip up a bit precarious, crashing into the wall whenever one of them trips, but Nick doesn’t want to stop kissing Harry. He doesn’t want to overthink things.

In the bedroom Harry steps away and pulls his shirt buttons loose, letting his shirt fall from his shoulders onto the floor. His trousers follow and he climbs onto the bed in nothing but his black Topman pants. 

Nick watches him, refusing to break eye contact as he starts on the buttons of his shirt. Harry looks right back, his breathing labored and his chest flushed. Nick wants to get his mouth on him again.

“Come here,” Harry says once Nick’s stripped down to his pants.

Nick goes, crawling across the foot of the bed to settle between Harry’s thighs. His necklace falls against Harry’s chest, the charm resting between Harry’s bird tattoos. Nick leans down and licks Harry’s skin, kissing his way up to Harry’s neck as Harry’s hands roam over Nick’s back.

It feels so good to just touch him again, to feel Harry’s skin warm against the palms of his hands and lips and tongue. He could do nothing but this all night and never get bored but Harry’s tugging on him, his hips pushing against Nick’s hip insistently and Nick doesn’t want to disappoint him.

“I’m going to suck you,” Nick says.

Harry sighs and twines his fingers through Nick’s hair as Nick kisses down Harry’s torso and tongues his skin where the elastic of his pants bite into his hip.

Harry’s heavier than he used to be, fleshier in his belly and hips, but it looks good on him. He was always so lanky before.

“Still have chicken legs though,” Nick murmurs like Harry’s privy to Nick’s internal commentary.

“What?” Harry asks, but Nick ignores him, running his hands up and over Harry’s thighs before hooking his thumbs in Harry’s pants and sliding them off.

Harry’s hard and ready, his hips shifting up and down in small, stuttered movements. It looks like he’s trying keep from bucking his hips and the knowledge that Harry’s holding back makes Nick want to try and push him harder.

Nick takes him down, moaning around Harry’s prick because he knows Harry likes it when he’s loud -- when he lets Harry know how much he loves it. 

He does love it. Harry’s got a great prick and he’s polite -- keeps his hips as still as he can and never pulls Nick’s hair or tries to make Nick take him further than he’s ready to take him. 

Nick wants to make him beg, to have him pull at Nick’s hair until Nick’s scalp hurts, and to buck his hips until Nick takes him all the way down his throat.

Nick sucks on just the head, holding the shaft firm in his hand while he tongues Harry’s slit. Then he pulls back and just breathes over Harry’s prick, cool puffs of air that he knows are driving Harry mad from the way he bites his bottom lip and throws his head back on the pillow.

“Nick,” Harry whines, his hands twisting in the sheets.

“Ask nice,” Nick says, teasing with his tongue again and then biting Harry’s thigh and the fleshy part of his hip just because he can.

There’s so much of Harry to taste and just this one night. Nick doesn’t want to waste it.

“Please,” Harry begs and Nick gives in just like that -- always so easy for Harry.

He sucks him, relaxes his throat and thumbs at Harry’s hip bones until Harry takes the hint and fucks gently into Nick’s mouth.

It feels so good and Nick encourages Harry with his hands, pushing at Harry’s hips when he goes to deep and easing off when he’s ready for Harry to push up again. They get a good rhythm going and Nick relaxes into it enough to think about his own erection trapped against the sheets.

He wants to pull himself off with Harry’s prick in his mouth but he’d have to get up on his knees to do it properly and he likes way Harry’s drawn taut on the bed, his face scrunched in concentration. He doesn’t want to do anything to break that concentration.

Harry’s close anyway. Nick can tell by the flush creeping across his chest and the way he’s breathing heavy through his nose, pushing his body toward climax.

“I’m gonna come,” Harry says, right on cue and then groans as Nick slides off slow, sucking hard as he pulls off, catching Harry’s come on tongue and swallowing it down.

Nick sits up after and makes a space for himself to sit criss cross between Harry’s spread thighs. He probably looks ridiculous, sitting there with his erection tenting his pants while Harry drifts on his post-orgasm high.

Nick palms himself through his pants and watches the flutter of Harry’s eyelids until Harry opens his eyes and smiles up at Nick.

“Hiya,” Nick says fondly.

Harry reaches for him and says, “Come here,” his voice raw and fucked out like he’s the one who just blew someone.

Nick crawls to him, settling next to him in their too small bed and lets Harry put his hand in Nick’s pants.

~~~~

Nick wakes to Jane’s careful knocks on the bedroom door. Harry’s asleep on his chest, but he doesn’t wake up when Nick pushes him off and slides out of bed. He scans the floor for his pants, but Harry’s are closer so he slides them on before dealing with Jane.

“Sorry to wake you but mum said you told her you’d drive Liv and I to the church and we need to be there early. Liv’s doing a reading.”

Nick forgot, but it’s not like he can back out now.

“Give me ten minutes,” Nick says.

He grabs a pair of joggers, a t-shirt and his wedding gear and goes down the hall to take the quickest shower of his life. He figures he can change at the church. It’s been a while since he’s been in one but he thinks he remembers there being rooms where guests could get ready at his brother’s wedding ages ago.

On his way downstairs he pauses at his bedroom door but decides against going in. Harry likes his sleep and he’s not like Nick. He’ll understand waking up alone once Nick’s mum explains it to him.

“Ready?” Jane asks once he’s come downstairs. 

Nick grabs Harry’s scarf off the coat rack and twists it around his neck.

“Ready,” he says.

~~~~

“And he was okay?” Nick asks his mum for the tenth time, looking over the rapidly filling pews of people for a glimpse of Harry.

“He was fine, Nicholas. He said he needed to make a call and that he’d be in after,” his mother says. “Why don’t you go looking for him? He’s in the car park somewhere.”

“I’ll be right back,” Nick says, getting up and pushing his way past his mum and dad.

Harry’s not in his mum’s car or the car park that Nick can see. The church grounds are sprawling and really, he could have got off to anywhere, but Nick feels unsettled and he knows he’s not going to feel better until he finds Harry.

He shouldn’t have left this morning without waking him. He knew it and he did it anyway because he was too much of a coward to face him -- too scared Harry would wake up and look at him and regret what they’d done.

“Nick,” someone says and Nick spins around, his heart racing hopefully even as his brain registers that it’s not Harry’s voice.

“James,” Nick says.

“Did you lose something?”

“You don’t have a date,” Nick says, ignoring James’ question -- only just realizing that James has been sat alone all weekend, that he didn’t introduce anyone at dinner last night.

“I’m in the middle of a divorce,” James says, shrugging his shoulders. “Haven’t felt up to getting back in the game yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Nick says and is surprised to find he actually means it. “Break-ups are hard.”

Nick thinks about those first few months after he and Harry called it quits, how hard it was to keep from calling him. Nick had never felt worse in his life.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about at dinner but you… I wanted to say I’m sorry. I know it was forever ago and it probably doesn’t matter anymore, but I was a twat. I did a lot of things I’m not proud of back then, but what I did to you was horrible and I’m sorry.”

Nick doesn’t know what to say. 

“It wasn’t my fault,” he finally says.. 

“No, it wasn’t,” James says seriously. “And I’m glad things have gone so well for you. You look happy with Harry. It’s obvious how much you love each other.”

Nick laughs, a hysterical bubble that escapes before he can stop it. He leans in and kisses James, a hard quick press of his lips that lasts a few seconds at most. He feels so light and free and he needs a moment to anchor himself to something or he fears he might float away.

He pulls back, beaming and looks up just in time to see Harry standing frozen behind them.

“Harry,” Nick says.

Harry turns and stalks off.

“Fuck,” Nick says. “I have to--”

“Go,” James says. “Go. go.”

Nick runs after Harry, catching him in the car park.

“Harry,” Nick says, grabbing his arm.

“Fuck off,” Harry shouts, wrenching his arm free of Nick’s grip.

He stalks off again, digging in his pocket until he pulls out a key fob and clicks it, following the sound of the car alarm until he locates Nick’s mum’s car.

“Harry,” Nick says, hysterically. “Stop. You can’t steal my mum’s car.”

He’s gone and fucked everything up and if Harry would just _stop_ he could explain what Harry saw. He could make him understand.

“I’m going to borrow it. She’ll understand on account of her son being a prick.”

“That was nothing! James was just--”

“I don’t care about James!” Harry yells.

Harry never yells. Even when he’s being a stroppy brat he rarely raises his voice in anger. There’s something about hearing him yell that pisses Nick off. 

“Well, good!” Nick shouts back. “I don’t care about James either you stubborn idiot.”

“How could you just leave this morning?” Harry asks like he hadn’t heard him. Maybe he didn’t because Nick’s starting to realize they’re not even fighting about the same thing.

“If I ever did that to you… Well, I would never do that to you ‘cause I’m not an arsehole,” Harry continues. 

Nick takes a step forward and Harry backs up. Nick doesn’t think there’s anything Harry could have done to hurt him more. They’re both tactile people but Nick uses touch to tell people things he can’t bring himself to say. He doesn’t know what to do if Harry won’t let him touch.

“Hey,” Nick says, putting his hands up like Harry’s a frightened animal Nick doesn’t want to spook. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that. I was scared.”

“You think I’m not?” Harry asks. “I’m so scared, I moved to another country to avoid you.”

Nick’s throat hurts and he dimly recognizes it’s because he’s trying not to cry. 

“You what?” Nick asks disbelievingly. 

“Everything was so impossible,” Harry says, his voice shaking as he takes a step closer to Nick. “It was too hard to be in London and not be with you.”

Nick things about timing, about his and Harry’s and how it’s always been terrible, and about how maybe it’s not now. Harry’s coming home and he’s not touring anymore. He doesn’t have to worry about the way his relationships might affect the band.

Nick’s maybe year out from losing Breakfast, maybe being bumped from Radio 1 entirely. Things are changing for both of them and all the obstacles that kept them apart are falling away. 

“I think--” Nick laughs, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand. They’re both so stupid. “I think I love you and I think I’m tired of pretending that I don’t.”

“I think I’m moving back to London for you,” Harry says stubbornly, his eyebrows drawn and his lower lip pushed out in a pout -- like he’s mad at Nick for trying to out do him.

“I think when you do we should go on a date,” Nick says. “A proper one where we call it a date and when the papers call it a date we don’t deny it. And maybe you could let me hold your hand at the table.”

“Okay,” Harry says, still stubborn sounding. “You don’t even like hand-holding, but okay. If that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want,” Nick says, equally stubborn but also giddy. He thinks he could fly them both to L.A. and back on this feeling alone.

“Fine,” Harry says and then he closes the distance between them and kisses Nick.

When they break apart Nick says, “I think we missed my cousin’s wedding.”

“Well,” Harry says. “You didn’t really want to come, anyway.”

~~~~

Epilogue:

“You sure you’re ready for this?” Harry asks, turning off the car in front of La Bodegra.

It’s one of their oldest hauts, a favorite for celebrations, and Nick supposes this is a celebration of sorts. Harry’s finally home and they’re finally going to have their date.

“Yeah,” Nick says, glancing out the window at the entrance to the restaurant. 

There are paps on the sidewalk around the entrance which isn’t unusual, but it seems excessive tonight, like someone’s tipped them off that it would be worth their while to be there tonight.

Hell, Nick wouldn’t be surprised if it was his own publicist. Any press is good press, and all that.

Nick takes a deep breath and reaches for the car door handle but Harry says, “Wait!” and scrambles out of the driver’s side of the car, handing the keys off to the valet waiting on the kerb before making his way around to Nick’s side of the car to open his door for him.

“You know how to treat a boy right, Styles,” Nick says, feeling relieved and a bit panicky all at once.

Harry smiles and stands aside while Nick gets out of the car. 

“Last chance to change your mind,” Harry says.

Nick hears the tell tale shutter of the cameras and he and Harry both get blinded by the flashes going off from every direction. 

Nick breathes out and in and closes the car door. Harry reaches for Nick’s hand and Nick lets him take it, squeezing Harry’s hand in return. They walk toward the doors to the restaurant and Harry holds Nick’s hand all the way to their table.


End file.
